Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

“You really should eat.”

The morning of the wedding came with a mix of nerves and excitement for Eleanor. Something akin to anticipation fluttered in her stomach, rendering her both restless and completely exhilarated. Seated in the dining room, she glanced up from her plate to the other side of the table, where her mother was sitting.

I should be ravenous, and yet…

Forcing herself to eat, she took small, measured bites, mostly to keep her mother from chastising her. Her mind wandered, lingering on thoughts of the duke and their late-night rendezvous. Quickly, she pushed the stirring memory out of her mind, though a flush still rose to her cheeks.

Her mother smiled knowingly. “Nervous, Eleanor?”

“A bit.” Eleanor nodded, trying to steady her shaking hands.

“Are you sure about this? This is what you want?”

Eleanor turned the question over in her mind, letting it settle for a moment as the words sank in. She was sure, sure that she wished to marry the duke. And even if he would not love her, there was no denying that there was some affection between them. There was something, which was more than what could be said of most marriages in the ton.

Just as she was about to answer, her brother stepped into the room. He was clean-shaven and dressed well despite the dark circles under his eyes. With a curt nod, he regarded them both before sitting down.

As much as she hated the very idea, Eleanor felt the need to make amends now, before it was too late. But she was unsure of what she could say or do.

It was clear that Philip was not pleased with the arrangement, and perhaps he never would be. But there was no denying that she was marrying into a good family, despite the rumors. Dorian was a duke, so her brother couldn’t really find better than that.

“When shall we expect your friends?” he asked.

Eleanor blinked. “What an odd question coming from you.”

Philip had never taken much interest in any of her friends, much less in what they were doing or when they were coming. In fact, it had always seemed that he was most uncomfortable in their presence, though he did not seem to dislike them, as far as she could tell.

Philip eyed the spread before them, serving himself. “I only wish to know when I should make my hasty escape, sister. Do I have time to enjoy breaking my fast, or shall I eat on the run?”

Is that a joke?

Eleanor blinked, suppressing a smile. “You have some time, yes.”

“Perfect,” he said before he began to eat, taking his time to chew on his food.

Her friends and Dorian’s mother were expected to arrive mid-morning, to help her prepare for the wedding ceremony. Eleanor’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She had not yet seen the gown that her mother had bought her, and she was crossing her fingers that it would suit her.

“How did it go last night?” her mother asked.

Eleanor froze. “L-last night?”

“Yes. Did you find a style that you liked? With Lady Celia?”

“Oh, yes, but there were just so many.” Eleanor chuckled as relief washed over her. She stared down at her plate, the food before her seeming less appealing than a few moments ago. “I am still so unsure.”

As they continued their breakfast, Eleanor tried to focus on their conversation, but her mind still wandered. Her body still ached from the night before, and a realization that she truly did it had taken hold of her.

Never had she imagined that she would sneak into the house of a man and freely give herself over to him. But then again, she never imagined she would meet a man quite like Dorian.

“If you will excuse me.” Philip stood up from the table, his gaze lingering on Eleanor.

There was something in the way he was looking at her, as if trying to see through her. Though she was certain he did not know what had happened the night before, it seemed that perhaps he had his suspicions.

Her brother made for the door, pausing just long enough to glance over his shoulder, his eyes locking on hers. “I do hope that you are certain about this,” he said, before stepping into the hallway, his footsteps echoing in his wake.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Eleanor glanced down at her plate, which she had barely touched. She swallowed hard and then glanced up at her mother, forcing a small smile. “I should wish to take a bath before the ladies arrive,” she announced as she stood up from her seat.

Her mother nodded. “The tub is ready for you, my dear.”

Eleanor’s legs felt oddly weak as she moved around the table, all but running for the door. Her entire body was shaking, each muscle quivering under her skin. She clenched her fists, held her head high, and walked out of the dining room.

Once she had reached her room, she leaned against the closed door. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep breaths, hoping to calm her nerves just a bit.

As her breathing evened out, she turned her gaze to the tub. It was simple, made from copper that had been lined with linen on the interior. There was a bucket waiting there, warming by the fire for when she was done. Her heart skipped a beat as she was met with Beth’s round face.

Eleanor placed a hand over her heart and let out a breath.

“Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to startle you!” Beth cried.

Eleanor forced a smile and shook her head. “It’s fine, Beth. Really.”

The maid did not pry, for which Eleanor was grateful.

Beth helped her undress and guided her into the tub, and Eleanor immediately sank into the lavender-scented, hot water. The scent filled her senses, and she closed her eyes.

“I would like some time alone,” Eleanor said, keeping her eyes closed. “Come back in a short while, Beth.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Within a moment, Eleanor heard the sound of the door closing softly.

She kept her eyes closed, soaking in the warmth as her mind reeled. In a few short hours, she would be married. She would no longer be Lady Eleanor Burton, but the Duchess of Dayton. The very thought made her shiver with a mix of nerves and excitement. The tight coil in her stomach loosened, and she let out a sigh.

There is no use in worrying, and yet…

The duke had promised he would be there, and looking back, it seemed like such a foolish thing to demand of him. But he did not strike her as a man who did not keep his word.

Opening her eyes, she peered down at the water, and how her hair seemed to float around her. “I need not stress so much over it,” she muttered, as if trying to convince herself.

It was her wedding day, a day she should be enjoying without doubt. And yet the doubt lingered.

“You look beautiful,” Diana whispered, with starstruck eyes.

Eleanor stood before the full-length mirror in her room, surrounded by her friends and her mother. The gown was simple yet elegant—a piece in a creamy shade of white, with delicate lace trim around the bust. It flowed around her, hanging off her willowy frame in a way that suited her perfectly.

Her hair had been styled with the utmost care by Celia’s maid. Small yellow flowers were tucked into the loose pins, adding a sweet touch of color.

As she gazed at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her stomach. The woman staring back at her was the perfect bride, and she was sure she had never looked so beautiful before.

Peering through her spectacles, Eleanor frowned. She debated on wearing them or not. The duke’s words echoed in her mind—she looked different but not necessarily better without them.

“What do you think?” she asked no one in particular as she removed her spectacles, turning to face the other women in the room.

They were all blurs before her, but she knew them all so well that their shapes and shades were obvious.

“With,” Violet said with a nod. “It looks more… well, you.”

Celia shook her head. “I say without.”

Diana and Grace echoed Violet’s opinion, stating that the lenses suited her. Eleanor turned to the blurry shape of her mother, waiting for an answer, but she was met with the sound of sniffling.

“Oh, Mother, do not cry!” Eleanor whispered desperately, willing herself to not cry as well.

Her mother cleared her throat. “I make no promises. You just⁠—”

“She looks beautiful,” Diana said excitedly. “Like a princess, almost.”

Eleanor waved the notion away and turned back to the mirror. She slid the spectacles back on her nose, and took in her appearance once more. She couldn’t help but wonder what the duke would think of her.

Will he wish to tear this gown apart as well?

Admittedly, she had half a mind to allow him to do just that.

She was uncertain of what he would be appearing in—no doubt a nicely tailored suit. The duke did not strike her as a fashionable man, but it seemed clear that he could appreciate high-quality fabric. Though she much preferred him without anything on at all.

The image of his mostly bare body flashed in her mind. Her fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to run across the ridged muscles and curves of his broad, massive frame.

Eleanor blinked away the image, but the flush had already risen to her face and neck.

They stood in the room for a while, discussing the gown and the plans for the evening, when a knock sounded at the door.

Philip peered into the room, his eyes scanning their faces until settling on Eleanor. A small, defeated smile tugged at his lips. “You look lovely.”

Eleanor smiled back. “Thank you, brother. Is… is it time?”

“Are you ready?”

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at her reflection once more. Was she ready? There was no going back after this. As soon as they arrived at the church, she would become the Duchess of Dayton, no longer just Lady Eleanor.

Turning back to her brother, she nodded. “Yes, I am.”